


Shallura Week 2020

by mckinlily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, One True Black Paladin Shiro, Shallura Week 2020, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, at least some chapters, band au, shirtless Shiro because why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckinlily/pseuds/mckinlily
Summary: Day 1: Stars/Sky - Shiro has a celebrity crushDay 2: Wings/Bloom - Shiro and Allura adjust to life after the warDay 3: Moon/Sun - Shiro makes a really dumb joke. Somehow this results in Shiro and Allura datingDay 4: Horizon/Beyond - Shiro and his relationship with the beyondDay 5: Light/Dark - Shiro and Allura are irresponsible and have fun (because they deserve it)Day 6: AU - Allura is an alien trying to hide in plain sight. But someone's discovered her secret. (or: Allura punches a coffee maker. There are consequences.)
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 52





	1. Shiro has a celebrity crush

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to write something for shalluraweek every day this week and post day of, which is totally different from how I normally write so...we'll see how this goes! If you like these, I could definitely use the encouragement :D

“Sure you’re not freaking out, Shiro?” said Keith, his voice bland and amused.

Shiro realized he was repeatedly doing and undoing the Velcro on the back of his (one) fingerless glove and quickly put his hands behind his back. Behind him, someone—probably Pidge—snorted.

Shiro breathed and looking around, forcing himself to take in his surroundings. Small office, lots of sound equipment, his and Keith’s guitars against the wall, air conditioner that made that annoying hum. Keith was nearest him, slouched in his leather jacket in a way that made Shiro wonder if he and Keith made it as a punk duo on Keith’s emo vibe alone. Sprawled across the couch was Lance, their PR and social media manager, sipping on a smoothie and clearly snickering at Shiro. Pidge was fighting Lance’s legs encroaching on her space on the couch. She worked on post-production with Hunk, a musical genius who played an impossible number of instruments and had a knack of fleshing out every song idea Keith and Shiro had into a massive hit, and helped Lance out where PR became technical. She was _also_ definitely smirking at Shiro. Really, Hunk was the only one of them not actively laughing at him, and that was because his expression was worryingly close to pity.

Why did Shiro like these people again?

Oh yeah, because his band and the team behind it had become something like a second family.

And sometimes “family” meant “ _incredibly annoying_.”

Shiro resisted the urge to fiddle with one of his piercings. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

“Yeah. Suuuuurre, you are,” drawled Lance.

Hunk shot Lance a look, clearly chiding him for not being sympathetic. He looked back to Shiro. “You really don’t need to be nervous.”

“Sure he does,” said Pidge, grinning over her glasses at him. Besides Keith, she has known Shiro the longest, and Shiro could see the blackmail in her eyes as she looked at him. She took on a sing-song voice, “It’s _Allura._ ”

Just the look in Pidge's eyes was enough to make Shiro blush.

“Ugh, why are you like this?” Keith threw his hands in the air. “You sing your heart out to thousands of people an audience, take the lead in interviews, talk openly about being bi and having PTSD on YouTube, but having a conversation with _one singer—_ ”

“She’s not just another singer!” objected Shiro, scandalized. “She’s _Allura_. Do you have any idea the kinds of records she’s broken? Her latest album—”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know about your massive crush on Allura,” laughed Lance.

Shiro huffed. “That's not it.”

They didn't get it. It wasn’t just that Allura was totally hot (breathtakingly beautiful more like) or an incredible musician (which she definitely was) or had a voice that when she sang would make even sirens weep in jealousy (though she definitely did). She also was the kind of social activist Shiro dreamed of learning how to be. A political refugee who climbed her way to the top from nothing, she used her massive following to push for social change and speak out against inequality in all its forms. The way she handled personal attacks—on her race, her gender, her sexuality (pan, as seem on the flag in her Twitter profile)—with grace, dignity, and yet absolutely no apology left Shiro in _awe._ He respected the hell out of her, ever since the first time he saw a video of her neatly dissecting the intersection of racism and sexism in the music industry, and privately considered her one of his personal heroes.

And she was coming to the studio because someone thought it was a good idea for them to collab, and Shiro _didn’t know how to deal._

“Okay, okay.” Lance rolled off the couch, picking up a can of whatever sugary death drink they were supposed to be promoting and opening it to hand to Shiro. “Time to chill out. Take a sip of our ‘paying for Pidge’s new sound system’ drink and remember _you’re_ an internationally known star, too. It’s going to be fine. _I_ planned it.”

“Oh, and that’s never come back to bite us before,” said Keith.

“Excuse you, I made Grumpy Cat Keith a meme! It’s was a stroke of marketing _genius!_ ”

Shiro opted to ignore Lance and Keith’s bickering, choosing instead to take a sip of the dubious promotional sports drink—

“I mean, worst come to worst, we could always use the footage to make another meme campaign if Shiro completely falls on his face.”

—only to immediately spit it out again. “ _Pidge!_ ”

“Sorry,” smirked Pidge, unrepentant. Then her eyes fell on his shirt that he’d spilled his drink all over. “Oh. Uh. Actually sorry.”

Shiro looked down at his chest with mounting dismay. Of all the days to wear a white shirt ( _this_ was why he wore black: it wasn’t depressing, it was _practical_ ). The promotional drink was an unnatural red and splattered over most his front. It wasn’t something that could be hidden and Shiro could already tell the color wasn’t coming out.

“We could try rising it?” said Pidge, and she honestly sounded contrite.

“Dump the drink over all the shirt?” Keith offered.

“Hold on,” said Hunk. He started rummaging behind the couch. “I think Shiro’s vest from the Toronto show is in here. I know that shows off your prosthetic a lot without anything to go under it but—”

“That’s fine. You’re right: it’s probably the best option. Lance, when is Allura supposed to show up?”

Lance glanced at his phone. “Uh, now, actually?”

“All right. Not much time.” Shiro forced the panic to stay out of his voice. “Hunk—”

“Found it!”

“Good.” Shiro grabbed the back of his shirt, getting ready to pull it over his head. It had stuck to his chest where the drink spilled and was starting to feel sticky.

“Um, guys?”

Shiro yanked his shirt off, turning as he said, “Yeah, Pidge?”

But it wasn’t Pidge who answered.

“Oh my.”

Oh _no_.

Oh no nononononononono.

Allura—superstar, perfect, idolized _Allura_ —was standing their doorway, blocking the way for the rest of her entourage. Shiro pressed his crumbled shirt to his chest in a vain attempt to preserve his modesty. Which was helped not at all by the way Allura (unfairly hot in skin-tight silver jeans and an _adorable_ crop-top) was _staring._

Staring. At him. Shiro. Who could feel that last of that godsforsaken drink drip to his bellybutton.

They both started talking at once.

“Sorry—”

“So sorry—”

“—I was just—”

“—Of course! Abs—I mean! Absolutely—”

“—you too—wait, that’s not—”

Pidge’s cackling laughter put a stop to their train wreck, but only gave more time for Shiro’s blush to attempt to melt his face off. Fortunately (or not so fortunately?), Allura didn’t seem to be faring much better.

“Should we give you two some privacy?” asked Lance, all waggling eyebrows.

“No, you should not,” said Allura, drawing herself up and doing a nice job of returning to professionalism considering Shiro was still half-naked and drowning in mortification. She brushes her hands on her pants. “Let’s return to business.”

Her assistant snorted behind her. “Like you can talk _business_ when you just ogled his chest for five minutes.”

“Romelle!”

Well, at least Shiro wasn’t the only one mortified now.

“We’re here to discuss a collab, which is what we’ll do,” said Allura. But she met Shiro’s eyes looking sheepish and a tiny bit shy. "Unless..."

“Could I buy you a drink after this?”

That was _not_ what Shiro intended to say.

But, holy crow, if Shiro had thought that pink crop-top looked hot on Allura before, it had _nothing_ on the tiny, confident smirk growing on her face. “Hm. Are you referring to the one on your chest?”

Shiro's mouth continued to run without his permission.

“I was thinking we could work up to that.”

Keith pretended to gag behind him, but Shiro didn't care because Allura, freaking I-don’t-need-a-last-name-I’m-like-Beyonce _Allura_ , was flirting with him and Shiro was pretty sure if he tried right now, he could fly.

“Ugh, gross. Gross! Hunk, don’t look!” said Pidge, scrambling to put her hands over Hunk’s eyes. Meanwhile, Lance was smiling like a shark.

“Perhaps we finish this up first?” said Allura. The way she was smiling at him made Shiro feel like there were tiny supernova going off in his chest.

“That—that works.” Frankly, Shiro was astonished his words still worked at this point.

Allura clapped her hands together with an authoritative “All right!” and yep, Shiro was in love. “Enough of this. Let’s get down to business.” She strode further into the room and consequently closer to Shiro. “On one condition,” she said, tapping Shiro’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“You keep that shirt off.”

Well.

Shiro felt his own smirk blooming on his face. He could work with that.


	2. Shiro and Allura find a new start after the war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, the Paladins are back on Earth, but Shiro and Allura find adjusting to peace might be harder than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic entirely ignores anything that happened after season 2 because...well. You know why. #longliveprincessallura #blackpaladinshiro

The truth of it was, it took way too long for Allura to notice. The war was over, Zarkon and Hagar were safely ( _finally_ ) dead, and the Paladins of Voltron had returned to Earth. Even negotiations with the Galaxy Garrison and Earth’s other ruling parties had, at long last, come to an end. (Earth’s pollical system was surprising complicated and rigid compared to what Allura would have expected from knowing her paladins. When she had told Shiro that, he had just laughed and laughed.) With the politics and negotiations over, the paladins were finally able to go home.

Keith was in the desert, soaking up the Earth sun and the quiet.

Pidge had reunited her family and was making up for lost time.

Hunk traveled to his grandparents's ranch to finally meet two of his youngest nieces.

Lance had gotten absorbed into the mass of parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, distance relatives, and possibly nearby neighbors and outright strangers who just got caught up in the fuss, showing him in the praise and attention deserved.

And Shiro was back at the Garrison, sharing his experience and knowledge with faculty and cadets both. Allura thought he looked very handsome in the sharp cut of his grey uniform, regal and commanding like he always should be. He was back as a hero, and already very well on his way to becoming a beloved instructor. Which to Allura made perfect sense. He had already fought for, inspired, charmed, and occasionally strong-armed the rest of the universe; it was time he received the same kind of recognition on his home planet. He belonged here.

(Allura wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere. With the war over and on a strange planet where the inhabitants felt just enough like Alteans to be continually unnerving, she could feel herself crumpling, like her core was turning into dust.)

(They had finally disposed of Zarkon, and what was Allura besides another ten thousand year old relic? Perhaps it was time for her to fade away as well.)

So Allura told herself all was well. The paladins were safe and happy, and they no longer needed her. She was just stretching out the inevitable when the end was in sight.

It was this line of thinking that almost made her miss the problem with Shiro.

Almost. But, thankfully, not quite.

Allura was used to seeing Shiro with bags under his eyes and stress lines on his face—as much as she might not like it, it was an inevitable part of the war—and it took her way too long to realize that he _shouldn’t_ look like that now. That wasn’t Shiro’s default state. Oh, one might think that was if they only saw Shiro in Black Paladin mode or operating in strict professionalism, but Allura had long since learned how to get past that veneer Shiro held up like a shield. The real Shiro, the _true_ Shiro underneath the stress and the trauma and the responsibility he felt towards everyone, was a very different creature.

And once Allura pulled herself out of her moping enough to realize, it was all very clear.

She hadn’t seen Shiro tease or pull tricks or use that deadpan delivery of his dry morbid humor that left everyone who didn’t know him questioning whether or not he was joking. Not in months. Though he attended all the meetings asked of him, his eyes had lost the light that Allura and the rest of team Voltron had depended on so often in their darkest moments. His involvement in the Garrison seemed more dutiful than engaged, and despite nearly every cadet (and quite a few of the instructors) wanting to know about and know _better_ the incredible Takashi Shirogane, Shiro seemed to be pulling into himself more and more. He wasn’t even excited about mentoring, which was especially surprising given how he had immediately latched on to the other paladins when they were younger. Oh, he tried his best with them—Shiro’s kindness, at least, hadn’t diminished—but it was clear his heart was somewhere far away.

At first, Allura was confused. He seemed to have a great job, a home, a _planet_ —But then Allura thought of what she knew of Shiro, what had made him happiest when they worked side by side, and her heart fell.

Shiro had been grounded. It was so _wrong_ Allura was astonished she hadn’t seen it out before. Mentor, teacher, commander—none of that mattered when it meant he was stuck on the ground. The wings of the great Black Paladin clipped, and _oh_ , Allura hurt at the thought. Shiro had always been happiest the rare times where neither the war nor diplomatic negotiations where pressing on him and he got the opportunity to simply be on whatever planet they had landed on. To learn, explore, try new things. And the Garrison had cut Shiro off from all of it.

Allura’s decision was made before she even had to think about it. She caught Shiro’s hand before he turned in for bed and twined her fingers between his.

“Let’s go,” she said, and Shiro had been working with her too long to question what she meant.

Shiro’s stress lines were etched deep into his face, highlighting the redness also growing there. He held his tablet close to his chest, looking uncertain. “I should…”

Allura shook her head. “Should nothing. You don’t owe them.”

"There’s—there’s paperwork. And schedules—”

“And _you’re_ the Black Paladin. No planetary government can tell you what to do.”

Shiro still hesitated a moment. Then he brought the tablet down. “I’ll get my things.”

As it turned out, Shiro didn’t bring much. Just a few sets of clothes and a personal device with a few memories. Allura took his hand again and led them to the Castle. The other Lions were scattered throughout Earth with their paladins, but the Black Lion was in its hangar. Allura spotted its eyes flash as they walked past and smiled to know it, too, was grateful the Black Paladin had come home.

“You never did fly the Castle, did you?” said Allura as they approached the bridge.

Shiro raised his eyebrows, and he eyes finally filled with a bit of that light he had been missing. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Allura let Shiro walk up to what had been her station and put his hands on the pedestals. She then wrapped her arms around him from the back and pressed her face between his shoulder blades. “Hmm...no. Figure it out.”

Allura felt his laugh more than she heard it. But Shiro didn’t hesitate. He had been living in the Castle for three years and was a fast learner. Figure it out he did, and soon they were breaking through Earth’s atmosphere.

“Where to, Princess?”

Allura smiled against his back. “I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

It was one of those unspoken things they’d kept hidden, back when the war seemed determined to take everything they loved from them. Shiro took one hand off the pedestals and squeezed her fingers, an acknowledgement. Then he leaned forward.

“There are still a few planets I haven’t been to.”

“Be careful on the gravitational assists. The Castle has its own field.”

Allura could _feel_ Shiro’s grin, even if she couldn’t see it.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

 _That_ was her Black Paladin. Her rock and her best friend. Her _Shiro_. Allura hugged him tight and only laughed when Shiro complained he couldn’t breathe.

By the time they reached the Kepler belt, the tension had leaked out of Shiro’s muscles. He twisted around. “What to take a closer look?”

“Black Lion?” Allura asked.

“Black Lion,” confirmed Shiro.

The Castle might be an incredible feat of engineering, capable of delicate movements that should be impossible for its size, but it had nothing one the agility of a Lion—especially not the way the Black Lion could dance under the direction of Shiro. Together, they soared, darting between frozen clumps of methane and ammonia, going faster—faster—faster! as Allura urged and Shiro laughed in delight until their rumbling stomachs called them home.

( _Home_ , Allura remembered now, had stopped being a place and long since become a person.)

They docked in the Castle and made their way to the kitchen—only to find they weren’t alone.

“Hey, next time give us some warning before we take off, yeah?” said Lance, sprawled out with his feet up on the table.

“I was quite lucky Lance found me before leaving—otherwise I might have been stuck on Earth forever!” said Coran.

“You _idiots_ ,” said Keith, stepping forward to shake Shiro. “You thought we wouldn’t want to come with you, didn’t you?”

“Hope you don’t mind I brought my entire family,” said Pidge. “I figured there was room, and they wouldn’t let me leave without them. Also Matt said Shiro required ‘adult supervision.’”

“Hey, he’s only—!” Matt paused and made a face. “How old _is_ Shiro now? Ugh, stupid time dilation.”

“Just because the war is over, doesn’t mean the universe doesn’t still need Voltron,” said Hunk. “There’s still a lot of good we can do, right?”

Shiro looked at Allura, a wry smile on his face. “So maybe we were a little bit dumb.”

Allura found herself smiling in response. “Maybe a very little bit,” she conceded.

But their family was back together, the war was over, and she was taking off for adventure again, this time with Shiro’s hand in hers.

From that point forward, Allura knew where she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I definitely didn't stick anywhere close to the prompt and turns out this would probably fit better with Day 1, but I wrote something, so that's what counts, right?


	3. Shiro makes a really dumb joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro makes a really dumb joke. That's it. That's the fic. Oh, and somehow that results in Shiro and Allura dating.

“Do you want to see how fast I can climb this tree?”

Allura paused, trying to figure out how such a ridiculous sentence came out of Shiro’s mouth. They were, nominally, on a mission if a very easy one—walk around a moon’s lake and collect pretty rocks to prove the locals that she and Shiro were worth negotiating with. The chiefess had even assured them the ritual was primarily for show. Still, it wasn’t like Shiro to get distracted.

And really. _How fast can I climb this tree?_

Shiro seemed to be waiting, though. His smile, which had started boyish and impish, was fading slowly the longer he went without an answer.

“…I really think our focus should be on the mission,” said Allura.

Shiro’s shoulders slumped for half a second then snapped into military posture. “Right. Sorry. I—nevermind.”

It was just so out of character for him. Allura frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s nothing.” Shiro caught her eye and shrugged. “It was just…a joke.”

“Oh!” Allura clapped her hands and smiled at him. “I love jokes! Tell me!”

At least Shiro was smiling and shaking his head now. “It’s not really funny if I explain it.”

Which, yes, that was true. But now Allura’s curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to _know_.

“ _Shiiirro._ ”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you been taking whining lessons from the paladins?”

Allura huffed. “If it works…”

Shiro looked caught between a laugh and a groan. “So what I’m hearing is you think I’m a push over.”

“Only with your team,” said Allura all smiles and innocence.

Shiro groaned and rolled his eyes. “So that’s why they never listen to me.”

That statement was actually entirely untrue. The other paladins listened to Shiro with a kind of unwavering trust that was honestly awe-inspiring. They might whine and complain, bicker and tease, but when push came to shove, they would follow Shiro without question to the end of the universe. Allura was supremely lucky that Shiro was as loyal to _her_ as his team was to him, otherwise she would have long since faced a mutiny.

But that was too serious for the tone of the conversation, and Shiro had to know how much his team trusted him because he trusted them just as completely. Besides, there were more important things right now.

“So what was the joke?”

Shiro let out a long sigh. “It honestly wasn’t that good, Allura.”

If Shiro thought that could get her to back down, he clearly didn’t know her well enough. Allura clasped her hands in front of her, pushed her shoulders together, and leaned _wayyy_ into Shiro’s space, opening her eyes as wide as they could go.

Shiro stumbled. “Oh. _Oh_. That’s dangerous.”

Allura just smiled innocently and fluttered her eyelashes.

She was rewarded a minute later when Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, Shiro,” said Allura sweetly.

“Anyone tell you you’re a lot of trouble?” Shiro grumbled, but his lips were twitching. “Okay, so…ugh, this is dumb.”

“I believe in you, Black Paladin,” said Allura only a little facetiously.

Judging by Shiro’s expression, he didn’t believe she was that innocent, but he continued anyway.

“Remember like…way back when. Maybe a few weeks after we first met you? We were all super new to Voltron, and we stopped on that moon where Rolo and Nyma sent that fake distress single?”

“Oh, yes. Quiznak, that _was_ a long time ago.” Shockingly long, really. It felt almost as long ago as the last time she had seen Altea. They had all felt so young back then and, though Allura won’t admit it, so scared. The tiny band of Earthlings had been nothing like the formidable team that they had become.

“Yeah…” said Shiro, looking a combination of exasperated and nostalgic. “So you remember how Nyma conned Lance and stole his Lion?”

“Oh, Lance,” sighed Allura, shaking her head. “At least he’s learned since then.”

“Took him a few times.”

“Or several.”

Shiro shook his head. “I should stand up for my teammate, _but_ …”

“Part of being a good leader is knowing your teammates’ weaknesses,” said Allura primly.

Shiro burst out laughing. “Yes, so. While Lance was out there, one of the things he said to try and impress her was, ‘Want to see how fast I can climb this tree?’ So...yeah. That’s the joke.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I told you it wasn’t very good.”

“No. It’s a wonderful joke.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, shoulders shaking good naturedly. “Allura, you didn’t even give it a pity laugh.”

“ _Ha!_ ” said Allura, which at least had the advantage of making _Shiro_ laugh. He had a wonderful laugh, and despite making significant progress since they’d first started Voltron, it still didn’t make an appearance nearly enough.

“So…there you go,” he said with a shrug. “Now you know the joke, so I guess we can go back to looking for pretty rocks. I kinda like the ones with blue threads…”

They lapsed into silence, making their way along the lake’s edge. Shiro might be looking at the rocks, but Allura found her mind wondering.

“Shiro. When Lance said that to Nyma—he was flirting, correct?”

“Uh, badly. But yeah.”

“And so just now…” Allura felt like they were on the edge of something, and judging by the way Shiro froze and stared at her, he could tell, too. “…were you flirting as well?”

“Um. Baldly?” said Shiro like he wasn’t sure that was the right answer. He tucked his head, and Allura could see red climbing up the column of his neck.

“Because…” Allura took a deep breath and went for the plunge. “You wouldn’t have to do anything to impress me. I already know you are an incredible fighter and capable of any number of ridiculous and frankly dangerous physical feats. I also know you are kind and brave and trustworthy and the strongest person I have ever met. Not to mention, you are incredibly attractive.”

Shiro’s face bloomed a wonderful shade of red. “That—oh. I—um—”

Allura hugged her arms around her stomach, trying to quash the painful beatings of her heart. “If—If that changes anything.”

“There isn’t really the time…” Shiro spoke almost as if debating with himself.

“We both have responsibilities,” agreed Allura immediately. “That has to take priority over anything normal—”

Shiro snorted loudly. “Since when was anything about our lives _normal?”_

“True,” said Allura, doing her best to squash down disappointment. She and Shiro were built for the war—for the universe, and they took pride in that. They didn’t have room for something as frivolous as dating. The universe had to come first.

“Hey.” Shiro’s hand touched her shoulder, gentle and almost hesitant. “Do you want to make this a date?”

“Huh?”

“Well…” Shiro shrugged and gestured to the scene around them. “Quiet walk, beautiful moon, beautiful lake.” He glanced at her and winked. “Beautiful princess. What do you think?”

He was asking about more than just today, Allura realized. _Yes_ , he seemed to be saying, they were the Princess and the Black Paladin. They didn’t have time for what most couples did when they were courting. But maybe they could make it work in their own way.

Allura took Shiro’s hand off her shoulder and intertwined her fingers. “I think I’d like that.”

Shiro’s answering smile was beaming.

(In the end, they forgot to collect any moon rocks and had to send Keith and Lance to get some. “It’ll be good for them,” said Shiro. “Besides, they need practice with diplomacy.” And he snuggled Allura a bit closer.)


	4. Shiro and his relationship with the word "beyond"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Shiro was young, he had a thirst to explore. And then he discovered what was out there.
> 
> And then he got that thirst back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this needs to be said, but just assume anything vaguely canon from me is AU post season 2 unless explicitly stated otherwise.

“There just—there just has to be something _beyond_ this, right?” Shiro gestures to the stars, lying on his back next to his boyfriend having snuck out of the Garrison once again.

Beside him, Adam snorts. “Sometimes it’s really unbelievable that you’re like this sober. Are you sure you didn’t sneak a sip, Takashi?”

Shiro huffs. “I have to fly us back, Adam.” He might not be totally sure of what it takes to be a good boyfriend, but he’s pretty sure not killing your significant other with drunk flying is bare minimum.

“Sure, sure. Be all responsible, Shirogane.”

“I’m the one who snuck us out,” Shiro reminds him. “ _You_ hadn’t figured out how to get around the security cameras.”

Adam just grumbles and settles himself more firmly against Shiro’s shoulder.

“I just…I want to find it. You know? I don’t know what _it_ is, but it’s out there and I want to be the one to find it.”

Adam hums, and Shiro thinks that he understands.

Two years later, Shiro finds out that Adam really, _really_ didn’t.

And then Shiro is being carried past row after row after _row_ of alien prison cells on an alien ship that glows sickly purple and green, and he’s finally got a glimpse of what hides (fights, expands, destroys) beyond the stars, and he almost wishes he hadn’t.

* * *

Shiro’s in the head of a machine that is beautiful, marvelous—and semi-sentient. The last year of his memories of been scraped clean and replaced some gooey, dark mess. The Black Lion is powerful under his hands, though it is hard to tell if it’s good or bad. There is some part of the Lion that’s not quite…it's jagged and dark, it's…

( _Traumatized,_ Shiro will realize someday. But that is not until much later.)

Whatever the Black Lion is, Shiro doesn’t have time to give it more than a passing thought because all he has been able to think about is the four teenagers he’s responsible for since they went through that wormhole and keeping them _alive._ The Lions and the alien princess and her advisor all come second to that. Shiro will work with the tools he’s given and process later.

But there might not be a later.

They have the Lions but no clue how to use them.

The tractor beam from the Galra ship is pulling them in.

They’re going to be captured. And Shiro doesn’t remember what happened to him, but he remembers how it _felt_ and—

_No! No no no no no. They’re going take him again. They’re going to take his **TEAM** —_

They need something more. The impossible. They need _Voltron._ And Shiro shoves everything he has—his will, his determination, his fear—into his Lion and out toward his teammates that he barely knows but will already die for. He pushes until he finds some flicker of _beyond_ and then he _yanks_ it together into being—

(Later, much later, Shiro will learn Voltron isn’t supposed to work like this. Voltron works much better, is much more _powerful_ , when its weight is distributed evenly among its parts, not held together solely by the will and spine of the Black Paladin. Later, Shiro will learn that what he has been doing is supposed to be impossible. Later, his team will step up and demand to do their parts.

But that is later, not now. Now his team is in danger. Now they need a paragon, so a paragon is what he will be. _Possible_ doesn’t even factor into it.)

* * *

There are layers to Voltron beyond what even they’ve seen. Shiro catches a glimpse of this when he is thrown into the astral plane with Zarkon.

And then he gets far more than a _glimpse_ when he is trapped in it indefinitely.

The stars and nebula and massive, glowing eclipse are beautiful but haunting. Shiro stands (sits? kneels? floats?) on a glass surface that seems to change without warning. The rules seem strange and different here. Constantly doing and undoing. Thoughts drift by as light flares or comets or ripples in the fabric of space, and they feel like they should be familiar but they’re off. Written in a code he doesn’t understand, unfolding in a plane he doesn’t have access to. Everything seems _wrong_ , disconnected from anything he understands.

Shiro is losing himself. He can’t tell it it’s the astral plane that’s being made and unmade or if that’s him. Sometimes he looks to his right and sees part of himself miles away. Sometimes he looks down and sees nothing at all. He’s losing track of what _he_ is.

The Black Lion appears on the plane with him, huge and consuming, it’s her thoughts that are the comets and ripples in this strange place. When that doesn't comfort him, she creates an avatar of a more familiar lioness—if lionesses were pitch black and three times the size he is. The Black Lion curls around Shiro when the plane starts to waver, and Shiro buries his face in her flank. She feels like the impression of fur, the _idea_ of flesh and blood. Not quite the real thing, but all he has. When he closes his eyes, he sees pinpricks of light in her fur, like stars in a polluted sky. She wraps around and around him, holding him tight, the only thing keeping him together.

Time doesn't have meaning beyond _too long_ in this place. Until it does. His hand glows first—his right hand, the one that was taken from him, that he shouldn’t even be able to feel—red and warm and tingly, like gentle flames licking up his palm and onto his forearm. And then there’s tickling of grass against his fingers, movement and flickering green and vines climbing up his bicep. In one leg, he feels blue, push and pull, and cool, refreshing adaptability of water while he feels the prickling of sand against his toes in the other and solid strength of rocks building on top of each other. The sensations grow until each of his limbs glow, circling his dark and empty torso.

Empty—for now. As Shiro looks down, he sees light spark and grow, like an exploding star around his heart. It burns brighter, expanding through his chest and then covering his whole body, filling him with light and life and _feeling_ —

(Love. Five very different flavors but it’s all _love._ )

—and Shiro’s back in his body again. There are strong arms around him, moonlight hair brushing his face, and voices and hands brushing over him—“We found you”—“He’s back”—and his _name—_

“Shiro. _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro…_ ”

* * *

He’s back. And he’s scared. He was scared when he went to Kerberos (excited, nervous, anticipatory). Scared when they first formed Voltron (desperate, terrified, determined). Scared in the nights when the night terrors hit him and he couldn't sleep (terrified, self-hating, horrified, violated). But now he’s scared in a brittle way. Like the fear that used to come and go has hardened into jagged plastic. He feels like the dried up mudflats in the desert, rigid and fragile, like the smallest touch could crumple him. He holds himself together with pure will and the knowledge that he _has_ to. There’s a war to be fought and he refuses to not be apart of it.

He just isn’t sure what there is for him beyond that now.

* * *

Allura finds him curled up against the view screen of the observation deck. Shiro isn’t entirely surprised someone has come looking for him or that she’s the one who was assigned to find him. He’s both grateful and embarrassed that she’s the one who has to see this.

She crosses her legs as she sits down—the diplomatic dress rarely makes an appearance in these days of constant battle—and settles down beside him.

“The others are worried about you. Apparently you said some things in Voltron that were… concerning.”

They’ve gotten better at utilizing Voltron in the passing months, which includes a greater amount of synchronicity between their minds. And, consequently, access to a level of Shiro’s thoughts that he’d rather they didn’t have access to.

“I’m not suicidal.”

“You are not?” Allura’s voice is carefully non-judgmental.

“I _don’t_ want to die,” says Shiro fiercely. “I won’t if I don’t have to. I’ve just accepted the inevitable.”

Shiro’s made a deal with the universe: his life for the life and safety of his paladins. He’s aware the universe doesn’t work like that, so he will _make_ it make good on that deal. He refuses to accept anything less.

“I understand,” says Allura. “Coran was worried about that in me as well.”

Shiro believes her. He wishes he didn’t because if Allura understands, that means she knows the pain and darkness he’s fighting against every day, and he doesn’t want anyone to have to know that, let alone someone he deeply cares about. But Allura does know and does understand, and Shiro suspects that’s why she’s the one who came here in the first place.

Allura cups his jaw. Shiro doesn’t flinch as she brushes her thumb over the stubble on his cheek. Her expression is filled with some kind of emotion that Shiro is scared to put a name to. But words aren’t necessary because she leans forward and presses her lips against his.

“ _Allura_ ,” breathes Shiro as she pulls back, just a little. Her hand is still cradling his jaw.

“Coran told me I needed something to live for beyond the war,” she says. “That’s what it is for me.”

She says it simply, like she isn’t worried at all, but Shiro knows her too well to believe that completely.

“I…” Shiro reaches up and covers her hand with his. She’s so beautiful. And strong and brave and flawed but somehow that just makes him love her more.

(Shiro’s not sure when he decided he loved her, but it’s a truth that has beat in his heart for so long, it’s hard to imagine it was anything but a foregone conclusion.)

“I don’t think… Allura, my head’s still such a mess. I’m not—I don’t think I can.”

Shiro doesn’t think he could manage a relationship right now. Even if he _wants_ to. There’s so much right now. So much stress and demands on his (their) time. And so much he needs to work through before he can open himself up to another person the way he knows he would need to.

“I know,” says Allura, still so calm. If he were anyone else, he might miss the water gathering in her eyes.

Shiro takes her hand, folds his fingers over hers, and presses it close to his heart. Then he leans forward and kisses her back, just as gently and lovingly as she did him. “It’s not you.”

When he pulls back, Allura’s lips are trembling. He wishes he could pull her into his arms, comfort her, brush all the sadness away, but there’s too much storming—inside him, outside them, in the universe.

“Maybe…” He hesitates, cognizant of promises he can’t keep.

But Allura reads him anyway. “...Later? After the war?”

Shiro swallows. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles, still holding her hand close.

Allura’s fingers dig into his shirt as she leans forward. “Then after,” she says, her intensity giving away her emotions. “You’re right—there’s too much going on right now. But after, when we have time. We can try then.”

Shiro wants—he _aches_ with how much he wants. But he shakes his head. “I don’t think that either of us are capable of keeping that promise.”

“Then I protect you, and you protect me,” says Allura. “We keep each other safe.” She glances down, voice softer. “I never want to lose you again.”

Shiro’s heart _falls._ He squeezes her hand, assurance that he can’t guarantee. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Allura looks up at him. “So…until then? Promise?”

They’re dancing around what they should say. And, Shiro realizes, on Allura’s end at least it’s deliberate.

Shiro will absolutely regret it if he dies before he can tell her he loves her. By setting this boundary, she’s saying he has to survive (they both do) until he can.

Shiro gently sets her hands back in her lap. And then he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead because even if he can’t say it, she has to know she’s _loved_. And by _him._

“Okay. Promise.”

* * *

The war doesn’t end neatly in a final battle against Zarkon. Or Hagar. Or Lotor. There’s Sendak and other generals. And then there’s warlords. And unrest caused by the sudden power vacuum. And rebuilding an inter-galactic political system. There’s pockets of Galra control scattered across the universe that may take decades to eradicate completely.

But gradually…things slow down. They aren’t constantly watching their back anymore. There are other forces besides Voltron fighting for good. The universe isn’t on the brink of destruction, and Shiro makes the call it’s time to bring the paladins home.

(They’ll go back out there, they all know. There’s still so much work to be done, and Shiro knows his team too well to assume they’ll be satisfied letting someone else do it. But for the time being, they’ve earned a break.)

Emotions are high and bright and excited as they travel to Earth’s the solar system. Lance is chattering a million words a minute. Pidge has both her father and her brother around her, projecting a map tracking their distance to Earth. Hunk is excitedly listing the foods he missed, and even Keith looks excited, though he seems wary of Lance’s promise to introduce him to every single member of his family. Coran is practicing his “earthling slang” and almost certainly getting it wrong on purpose. Traveling will take at least a day, and they are all gathered together in the kitchen to wait it out. Shiro slips out and makes his way to the bridge.

Allura is there alone. She has charts up, monitoring the wormhole’s progress and documents listing out trade agreements. Useful stuff, but certainly not urgent.

“Hey,” says Shiro.

Allura jumps like she wasn’t expecting anyone to find her, and when she smiles, it’s small. “Hello.”

Shiro’s heart hurts. This is hard for her, he knows, even if she tries to hide it. He wishes he could make it better, but he doesn’t know how. He can’t keep his paladins from their families, and he knows Allura would never ask them to. But the fact of the matter is, they get to go home, and she never will. He doesn’t know how to make that not hurt.

But true to form, Allura quickly pulls herself together. She scrolls through one of her screens though Shiro would be surprised if she actually read any of it.

She offers Shiro a glance as he approaches her. “The war is over.”

“True,” says Shiro.

There’s awe and a little bit of shock coloring both their voices. Astonishment that it _finished,_ and they’re both still _here._

Allura smiles at him against, and it’s barely stronger than the first time. “You finally get to go back to Earth.”

“Yes,” says Shiro, stepping in front of her. “But that’s not what I’m looking forward to.”

“It’s not?” Allura finally dismisses her screens and gives him her full attention.

Shiro steps onto the dais with her. He feels nervous—it’s been so long since their conversation in the observatory—but he forces himself forward. There’s a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of Allura’s face. Shiro catches it and tucks it behind her ear, fingers lingering against her skin.

“No. It’s not.”

In hindsight, Allura’s reaction is exactly what he should have expected. For a moment, she’s frozen, staring at him mouth partly open. And then she explodes into him, arms wrapping around his neck, kissing him like she’s been waiting her entire life for this. Shiro holds her close and kisses her like the same is true for him. Maybe it is.

They still don’t know what the future holds or who they are beyond the war, but that’s okay because they have each other. They made it through.

And now they’ve got all the time in the universe to figure it out.


	5. Shiro and Allura are irresponsible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Allura are irresponsible and have fun (because they deserve it, darn it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my two modes are "navel gazing" and "mindless fluff" so...enjoy the fluff today!

“Oh, that—Oh no. That was definitely not supposed to happen.”

Allura’s snickers reached Shiro’s ears. Shiro glanced where she was sprawled across her bed, laughing at him.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” asked Shiro.

Allura rolled over enough to pat Shiro on the knee. “You’re doing very well, my love.”

Shiro pouted. Allura only smiled at him. Shiro considered her, the very bright pink goop splattered on his hands, and thrust his hand into Allura’s face.

“URG! EW! _Shiro!_ ”

“Just sharing the love,” sang Shiro, trying to smear the goop over her face while Allura shrieked and tried to fight him off.

“No no no no!” Allura squirmed out of Shiro’s reach—and right off the bed. She landed with a faint, “ _oomph_.”

Shiro immediately leaned over. “Are you okay?”

“Uhhhhhhg,” groaned Allura. She squirmed against the ground, and Shiro was starting to get concerned, when she launched forward, another one of those mysterious capped sticks that they’d picked up on the last swap moon in her hand. She snapped it single-handedly, splatting Shiro with purple goo.

“Hey! No, I was already covered!”

“So you wouldn’t mind a little more,” said Allura primly.

“Oh, now it’s _on_.” Shiro dived for another stick, this one bright yellow. He had been trying to figure out what they were before, but now he simply snapped the stick and started to spray Allura with it.

It devolved from there. They had a whole box of those things and, now that the first one was broken, nefarious intentions. Shiro took particular delight in managing to splatter half Allura’s hair blue and then somersaulting across the room while she shrieked at him. She grew bigger into order to better hit him, and Shiro retaliated by parkouring off her vanity and flipping onto her bed.

“You’re going to ruin the sheets!”

“Oh, like we haven’t done _that_ before.”

Allura froze, bright red, looking like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scold him or laugh. Shiro took advantage, bouncing to his feet and crushing an orange stick above her head.

“Shiro!” Allura shrieked and launched forward, catching Shiro around the waist. They crashed back onto the bed, Shiro laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Allura grabbed his hands, lacing her fingers through his, and forced them above his head while she straddled him.

“No. More,” she said, lips twitching and her face of riot of neon colors.

Shiro tried tugging his arms, testing out her hold, but not really attempting to get free. He met Allura’s eyes, only scant inches from his, and licked his lips.

Allura focused like a laser on his mouth. Shiro arched up, and—

The intercom buzzed. Coran’s voice came through, “Ah, Princess?”

Shiro dropped his head back on the bed with a groan, and Allura’s expression dropped to deeply annoyed in a way that (privately) Shiro found very gratifying.

“What is it, Coran?” She did an impressive job of keeping her voice level and calm.

“Just letting you know that we have that meeting with the Trarrie tonight.”

Allura met Shiro’s eyes with a long-suffering expression before composing herself again.

“Thank you, Coran,” she said. “What time was it again?”

"Well, ah, now actually. They’re getting a bit impatient, to tell you the truth.”

“ _Quiznak,_ ” hissed Allura.

Shiro closed his eyes. “We were getting ready for the party,” he remembered.

“Understood,” said Allura in a louder voice. “I’ll be down in just a tick.”

“That would be good,” said Coran. “If you run into Shiro, could you tell him to get a move on, too?”

Allura looked down at Shiro sprawled out beneath her. “I will do that.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

As soon as the intercom clicked off, Allura dropped her face into Shiro’s shoulder (which, slimy goo against his neck— _yuck_ ) and groaned. “I don’t want to go to the party.”

Shiro wrapped his arms around her waist. “Me neither.”

But they were the Princess and the Black Paladin so they untangled themselves and sat up. Shiro looked at the riot of color Allura had smeared all over her and knew he wasn’t any better.

“We look like a mess,” he said.

Allura bit her lip. “We don’t have time to clean off. We’ll just have to do our best.”

“You mean fake it like we meant to do it?”

“Yes, exactly that.” Allura flashed him a quick smile.

The goo did _not_ easily wash off (Shiro was 90% certain the Castle scan had deemed it non-toxic. They should probably check on that. After the party). Best they could do was wipe off the excess and deal with the stained skin. Though Shiro did think the splashes of color in Allura’s white hair looked good. Shiro put on his armor, and Allura tugged on her diplomatic dress, and together they hurried to meet the others.

The party was held in a cavern below ground, with crystals set in the walls to provide dim lighting. The Trarrie spent most their lives underground and were unaccustomed to bright lights. Shiro and Allura slowed to a stately walk just before they entered to appear unhurried. Shiro glanced at Allura and paused in a step.

“You’re glowing,” he said.

“Hmm?” said Allura in an undertone, already scanning the party for her first political move.

“It must be the goo. I think it glows in the dark.”

“Oh. That’s—”

“Princess! Black Paladin!” The lead councilwoman swept towards them, and Allura broke off to smile at her. “It is a pleasure to see you at last. Oh, but you did not tell us you were so Blessed!”

“Ah—”

Shiro and Allura looked at each other.

“Your spirit marks!” explained the councilwoman. “You have so many—and so many different colors as well. You must be _very_ favored by the spirits.”

“Oh, uh. That’s not—” Shiro began before realizing that, _we lost track of time because I was messing around with my girlfriend,_ was _not_ the explanation he should give a potential ally in their fight against the Galra empire.

Fortunately, Allura covered for him. She wrapped her hand around Shiro’s arm, smiling.

“You’ll have to forgive Shiro. He’s very shy about these things.”

“Oh! My apologies, Black Paladin.” The councilwoman bowed low. “I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” assured Shiro.

“Now you were brought up certain resources you would like access to from the Coalition...” said Allura, and they segued safely into politics.

“I don’t get it,” Lance complained an hour later. “ _I_ mess around, and I nearly get my Lion stolen. But Shiro and Allura mess around, and somehow they’re suddenly viewed as demigods on this planet?”

“Well, it’s Shiro and Allura,” said Keith like that explained everything.

Hunk patted Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lance. You’ll get your chance at a parade someday.”

Lance groaned dramatically. “But how am I supposed to _compete_?”

Standing next to Allura where they didn’t realize he could hear, Shiro smirked into his drink.


	6. Allura punches a coffee maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura is an alien trying to hide in plain sight at the Garrison. But somebody has discovered her secret. 
> 
> Or: Allura punches a coffee maker. There are consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got long. Whoops.

“Stupid, quiznacking—”

_Crunch._

The coffeemaker crumpled. In its side was the impression of Allura’s fist. Allura started spewing a whole host of Altean curses, only to abruptly cut off when she heard the door to the communal kitchen open and close.

(It was the middle of the night! No one else was supposed to be awake.)

_(Supposed_ to be. Allura was sorely tempted to scratch out the classification in the Altean database of humans as diurnal. Apparently, humans slept and woke _whenever they quiznacking well pleased._ )

For a moment, there was quiet and Allura thought she might be left alone. But then a familiar voice washed over her.

“You know, most humans can’t break steel with their bare hands.”

Takashi Shirogane. Of _course_ it was him. He leaned his hip against the counter, stained coffee mug in his one hand, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt and somehow still managing to look crisp and professional. He didn’t seem remotely surprised to find her here, late at night. Or that she’s done the supposedly impossibly in breaking their coffee maker.

“Oh?” said Allura going for indifferently and coming across as only cold.

"Mmm. Just in case you wanted to know,” said Takashi Shirogane— _Shiro_ as he insisted on going by most the time. He was the Galaxy Garrison’s hero golden boy: the star pilot and Galaxy Garrison hero who broke every record across the board and then miraculously saved his crew on the disastrous Kerberos mission—a feat that only grew more impressive when Allura realized what sort of technology he had to work with. Of course, _he_ was the one who had figured out her secret.

(“I could have sworn you were taller yesterday. Humans don’t normally grow _smaller_.”)

(“Most human birthmarks aren’t that pink. They _definitely_ don’t glow.”)

(“Did you know your ears are…unusually pointy? And that’s very strange that they’ve gotten rounder since I mentioned that.”)

(“You might want tell people you dye your hair.”

“Oh, and what color is my hair _supposed_ to be?” Allura had finally snapped.

“Any,” had shrugged Shiro. “Bright silver just isn’t typically considered _natural._ More Storm from X-Men or mystical princess, you know?”)

He’d never mentioned what he noticed to anyone else as far as Allura could tell. And, to be fair, his little suggestions had been invaluable in her effort to pass as an ordinary human. She even suspected he knew she’d faked her paperwork (why did Earthlings have so _much?_ ) and he’d never brought that up. They taught a Emergencies and Disasters course together, and he seamlessly covered for her when she stumbled over something she should have known. He was kind, really.

Still. It rankled that he noticed. That it was always _him_ who noticed when she messed up.

“That is good information to know,” said Allura as dispassionately as possible.

“So what’s the state of the coffee maker?” asked Shiro.

Allura huffed. “It was broken when I got here.”

Shiro set down his mug to take a better look at said coffee maker. He flashed Allura a sideways glance. “And I bet it works so much better now.”

Allura folded her arms over her chest. She was tired and grouchy and that was no excuse, but there were midterms to grade, fears she was fighting hard to repress, and she just wanted something to go _right_.

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“Okay,” said Shiro easily. He ran his fingers over the clear impression Allura’s knuckles made in the metal. “Why were you making a fresh pot in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I could ask the same of you,” said Allura gesturing to his empty mug.

“Touché,” grinned Shiro. “The difference is that _I_ don’t claim to make good life choices.” He shrugged what was left of his right arm.

That gave Allura pause. Rumor said Shiro’s missing arm (along with the white bangs and the scar across his nose) were from the disaster of the Kerberos mission. Did he not think that was a good decision?

“So I’m thinking the best option is to just throw this out,” said Shiro, turning back to the coffee maker like he hadn’t just dropped anything interesting.

Allura frowned. “Won’t people notice the coffee maker is missing?”

“Oh, definitely,” assured Shiro. “There’ll be outrage in the morning. But this thing has been on its last leg for ages. There will be a lot less questions about a missing coffee maker than one with a handprint in its side.”

Knowing what Allura did about the importance of coffee to Earthling culture, she was skeptical.

Seeming to read her expression, Shiro shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time the coffee maker disappeared. Or straight up got stolen. If you can break it down a bit more, we can throw it with the scrap material from the engineering department. Weirder things have come from there.”

Allura approached the coffee maker with caution. Shiro had yet to lead her into trouble, but…

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Mat programmed a singing and dancing blender once when we were cadets.”

Allura wanted to ask for more details to that explanation, but she caught the look in Shiro’s eye. He seemed…sad, almost. She didn't know why.

“Yes, I can break it,” she said instead. Shiro’s eyes went wide when she crumpled the side of the coffee maker like a wad of paper.

“Well. That’s one way to deal with that.”

“You asked!” hissed Allura, annoyed again.

"Yeah, I did. C’mon, we’ll drop that off and then get our coffee fix.”

Allura looked at the crumpled metal in her hands. “But we just destroyed the coffee maker.”

Shiro just grinned. “See, this is where it helps to know a local.”

They dropped the remains of the coffee maker off by the engineering department, and then Shiro used his key-code to get into the Garrison hangars. He led them past the usual flight and test craft to a little red hover that just screamed speed and power.

“Here. Hang on a sec.” Shiro dug around in the compartment beneath the seat until he pulled out an odd black device that ended in a…hook? claw? Allura couldn’t make sense of it until he started messing with the buckles and attaching it to his right arm.

_Oh_. A prosthetic. Allura just hadn’t realized Earthlings were so behind. When she had seen the emptiness where his arm should have been, she’d assumed he just preferred it that way.

Shiro caught her staring and made a face. “It’s not much to look at,” he said. “But it’s a tradeoff between looks and function, and I can’t fly one handed.” He gave the prosthetic a look at was almost ugly.

Allura immediately felt guilty. She shouldn’t have drawn attention to something Shiro clearly wasn’t comfortable with. She shouldn’t have made him uncomfortable at all.

“And that allows you to fly?” she said, trying to pitch her voice light and smooth over the situation.

"Yes,” said Shiro. “Well, some. Enough for this at least.”

Allura still wasn’t sure what “this” was, but Shiro had promised coffee and Allura followed like a yelmor promised a juniberry. She climbed onto the hover behind Shiro, hesitating when she realized the only thing to hold on to was Shiro’s waist.

It wasn’t—it didn’t _mean_ anything. They were just two instructors, _friends_ , sneaking out to get coffee in the middle of the night. That he was well built and handsome and had a jawline that could cut metal was irrelevant. That she could feel the way his muscles tensed as he leaned over the hover was _definitely_ irrelevant.

So irrelevant, in fact, that Allura thought of nothing else until they coasted into the decrepit parking lot of an equally decrepit looking store.

"Is this place…safe?” asked Allura.

“Mm. Depends on your definition of safe. Wait out here, I’ll just be a minute.”

Allura would have made a stink except Shiro was already on his way in and, well, maybe it was a good idea to give herself some space. A moment to breath. Time to remember that just because everyone _else_ on this strange planet was crushing on Takashi Shirogane didn’t mean she had to.

(But he did look good, those broad shoulders backlight by the bright store lights.)

Shiro returned five minutes later with two cups in a holder and a something in a paper bag. Allura zeroed in on the cup with her name on it.

“Scoot up,” said Shiro. “Let me put these under the seat.”

Allura just barely stopped herself from making grabby hands like a little kid. “But _coffee_ …”

Shiro laughed. “Just five more minutes. I promise.”

Allura did _not_ appreciate being kept waiting. But she didn’t feel like she really had the right to bargain either, so she grudgingly let Shiro put the coffee away and fly them further into the desert.

Thankfully, they didn’t go far. Shiro pulled off on a little dirt road and then parked them at the bottom of a cliff. He picked up the goods from the corner store and led them to a hollowed out overhang where they could sit on the sandstone and look out into the desert and the night sky.

“Here you go,” said Shiro, finally holding out Allura’s cup. “I figure no one’s going to find us or see us here.”

Allura was ready to be a hundred percent focused on her coffee, but then Shiro’s words registered. “What?”

Shiro flopped onto the cold ground, posture looser than Allura had ever seen it at the Garrison, and took a sip of his own coffee. He raised his eyebrows. “I’m guessing you don’t _actually_ look like a regular human with slightly pointy ears.”

Allura hesitated a moment—then she relaxed. She let her bones settle into their usual density (not necessary for looks, but it was impossible to move like a human when the weight wasn’t _right_ ). Her _cellica_ marks came back to their full brightness, her teeth moved to their natural place, and her ears _finally_ returned to their rightful, regal points—not any of this rounded nonsense. She exhaled, leaning back on her hands and letting her quintessence finally flow through her body without restraint.

“Huh. You’re actually more human-like that I expected.”

Allura glanced at him, and Shiro’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, and your eyes glow. Nevermind then. I’ll take that back.”

He didn’t sound _upset_ though. And he didn’t push.

He never pushed, Allura realized. With every hint he dropped or comment he made prompting her to blend in on Earth, he never asked for anything in return. He had _known_ , but he never demanded she confirm it or tell him more. Nor did he now.

For a time, they simply sipped their coffee, watching the high, thin desert clouds roll over the night sky like wisps of tulle.

“Why?” asked Allura after a while.

Shiro took his time to find an answer, but he seemed to understand. “I don’t know why you’re here or why you’re hiding,” he said. “But I figure everyone needs the chance to take off the mask every once in a while.”

Allura mulled that over.

“My name is Princess Allura of Altea.”

Shiro choked on his coffee. “ _Really?_ ”

Allura huffed. “Why would I lie?”

“Just… ‘Princess’? Does that mean the same thing on your planet as it does here?”

“Essentially, yes,” admitted Allura. She rolled her shoulders. “Except I am expected to take a lead role ruling my planet, not just pose on magazine covers wearing funny hats.”

Shiro started laughing. He placed his coffee cup on the ground so that he could lean back on his arm. “So why aren’t you there?”

“Where?” asked Allura.

“On your planet wearing funny hats.”

“I said we DON’T wear funny hats!”

“Mm-hm.”

Allura looked away from him so he wouldn’t catch her twitching smile. She said. “I sort of ran away.”

Shiro didn’t say anything, but he tilted his head in a way that said he was listening.

“I… I was just so tired of constantly being shadowed by my father and his advisors. Even Coran was getting overbearing. I’m never going to learn how to rule if I don’t get to make my own mistakes. But they were coddling me and acting like I was still a child on lead strings, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d heard of Earth—we’d received some of your broadcasts—and I figured… I could come here, to a new and unknown planet, and negotiate a peace treaty and an alliance and they’d finally have to take me seriously.

“But it turns out our databases on Earth were incredibly lacking. Earth doesn’t even _have_ a central government. The closest thing you have is a group of opposing dignitaries who argue all the time and never agree on anything, and your social media, which _everyone_ is on and is somehow _worse._ ”

“Um, yeah. Wouldn’t suggest trying to negotiate on social media,” said Shiro. His nose wrinkled. “Though you might be right: the UN isn’t much better.”

“How do you get anything _done_?”

Shiro laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? Most the time we don’t. Or someone just straight up says ‘screw it’ and does what they want, no matter the government.”

Allura sighed. That did sound like humans. Which wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing. Over time, Allura had come to like quite a lot about the weird inhabitants of this planet. But it did make them practically impossible to negotiate with.

“The Galaxy Garrison was the closest I could find to an actually functional international organization, but…”

“But they only really deal with space,” finished Shiro.

Allura nodded, shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to go back to Altea just to have them tell me I failed, so…” So she’d stayed, faked her way into a teaching position at the Galaxy Garrison, and tried to pretend to be human.

Shiro hummed. “Makes sense.”

“Does it?” said Allura.

“I mean, if I understand you right, your whole reason for coming to Earth was to prove yourself without other people holding you up, right?” said Shiro. “So when you couldn’t do that politically, you tried to make it as an ordinary human.” He shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

It did make sense. It made a _lot_ of sense, unfortunately. “It sounds childish when you put it like that,” she said.

“Nah. It’s sounds _human_.” Shiro’s lips twitched like he was proud of his joke, the _brat_.

Allura shoved him, and he rocked with the movement.

“I don’t know,” he said, once he’d found his balance again. “Maybe I just know too much what it’s like to reach for the stars and have it all blow up in your face.”

He looked thoughtful. Or…no, that wasn’t quite right. Regretful. Resigned.

“You’re arm?” asked Allura.

“Mm. That’s part of it. It’s actually not what I regret most.”

Allura leaned forward over her knees. “Can I ask…?”

“We hit a debris field just before returning to atmo,” said Shiro. “NASA’s supposed to be track of any satellites around Earth larger than a thimble, but somehow they missed this. There’s still an investigation going on evaluating what went wrong. But that thing just shredded our ship. It was a miracle all of us survived. I lost my arm. Commander Holt managed to get away with only cuts and bruises. But my friend Mat was on the crew, too, and—he survived and even recovered largely. But he’ll never be the same. Brain damage. He was without oxygen for too long.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Allura softly. “You saved them.”

“I know,” sighed Shiro. “But it doesn’t feel like it. Not when I lost my friend like that.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “And do you know what I feel most guilty about?” he said, eyes still closed. “Mat used to be a genius, all the Holts are, and now he struggles to function like a normal adult. But somehow he’s managing, and I’m here trying not to be angry and tell everyone my life got ruined, just because I’ll never get to the stars again.”

Allura frowned. “But why not?”

Shiro waved the stump of his right arm. “Can’t fly, remember? The prosthetic is well and good for simple stuff on Earth, but no way are they going to risk that liability in space.”

The bitterness in Shiro’s voice surprised her. He seemed to realize that and exhaled slowly.

“I have a good life here,” he said, almost like he was convincing himself. “I have the Holts and Keith. I like teaching the cadets. It’s rewarding to be a mentor and watch them grow. It just—sometimes it just hurts like _hell_ to prepare them to fly in space knowing I never will again.”

Allura hesitated. She placed her hand on what remained of Shiro’s bicep, waiting for him to shake her off, but he didn’t.

“If there was a way for you to fly again, would you?”

Shiro’s face flooded with outright longing, like nothing Allura had ever seen before. “I— _Yes._ I would do _anything_.”

“I have a ship.”

Shiro sat up straight, his eyes suddenly so bright Allura had a hard time believing humans didn’t naturally glow. “You have a ship? Like, with your planet’s technology?”

Allura nodded. “It’s the one I came here on. It’s hidden and camouflaged.”

“Can you fly it one-handed?”

“No.”

Shiro’s face fell.

“But!” Allura squeezed his arm. “But we could build you a new prosthetic! On Altea, our technology is much more advanced, especially in medical areas. We could build you a new arm that both looked like yours and was functional. It wouldn’t be exactly like a flesh and blood equivalent, but we can design it to do anything you want to do.”

Shiro’s eyes were wide. “Would it work on a human?”

“We’ve designed prosthetics for hundreds of species. I don’t see why you would be the exception.”

Shiro exhaled, looking a little faint. “You could…you could do that?”

“Yes. Well…” Here, Allura’s excitement faded a little. “I can’t, but there are medical experts who can. You would have to come to Altea.”

For a moment, Shiro looked like he’d been offered a chance for all his dreams to come true. Then everything about him crumbled. “I—I can’t,” he said, head hanging down.

Allura felt almost as crushed as Shiro looked. “Why not?”

“Keith,” said Shiro simply.

“That surly cadet who’s already following you around?”

“Yeah.” A found smile briefly touched Shiro’s face before his eyebrows pulled together again. “He’s like a brother to me: he doesn’t have anyone else. I promised I wouldn’t leave him, and he still has another year to graduate.”

Allura considered. “I could wait a year.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not exactly eager to go back to Altea yet,” said Allura. “Father and Coran know where I am. They can find me if they need to. I could spend another year learning more about Earth—provided you helped me continue to blend in.”

"Of course. But..." Shiro stared her. “Why are you offering this to me?”

“Because I want to help, and you deserve it?” Allura pulled her knees closer to her chest, but Shiro had offered her great honestly and vulnerability. She could do the same. “Because you were the first person to see me without all my princessiness and like _me_? Because…because I really like you? More than I should.” Allura swallowed hard and pushed forward. “In a year, when Keith’s graduated, will you come with me?”

Shiro stared at her like he was waiting for the ground to give out beneath him and prove this was all a joke. “To Altea?”

“Yes.”

Shiro’s eyes darted over her face, his voice tinged with strangled hope. “Could you teach me how to fly your spaceships?”

“Yes.”

“And visit other planets?”

“Of course.”

“Will you take me even if I bring along my angry, danger-prone, impulsive little brother?”

Allura laughed. “I will expect _you_ keep him under control, but yes.”

“Yes.” Shiro grabbed her arm, almost shaking her. “Yes, yes, a hundred times, _please_ , yes.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Allura. “Though I should warn you, it might be a long time before we could make it back here—”

Shiro immediately shook his head. “I don’t care. I _really_ don’t care. You can keep me in space for the rest of my life if you want.” He squeezed her arm once, gently, and then let go. “ _Thank_ you, Allura.”

Even as royalty, Allura had never been the focus of this much genuine gratitude. To a certain extent, it shocked Allura that after all he had been through, Shiro was still capable of it.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Allura inclined her head to Shiro. “Of course.”

“Can you tell me about Altea?”

Warmth, something much better and stronger than coffee, spread down Allura’s spine. She sat up straighter, her eyes alight.

“You want to know?”

“Well, if you’re going to take me there…” Shiro leaned forward, his eyes bright and interested. “What’s it like?”

Allura had _so_ much to say. She felt like a pressure keg that had been stuffed full, and now she was letting it all out. She told him about the festivals and holidays, the cities and the people. The fashions and the gossip and how they structured society. Shiro even asked to learn Altean, and she started teaching him right then and there. He struggled with some of the sounds, but it was such a _relief_ to speak in her native tongue again. Even when they inevitably had to pack up and return to the Garrison again, Allura didn’t feel so very confined when she had to shift back to her human disguise.

Shiro watched her transformation with fascination, but as they walked back to the hover, he said, “I want to let you know—it’s not just your culture or your planet that I find interesting. Which, I mean, I do. Obviously. But the first time I met you and had no idea who you were, I just had this _feeling_.”

Allura’s heart stumbled. “Really?”

“Yeah. I knew I had to get to know you.” Shiro was grinning more now. “And I was totally right. I haven’t met anyone I’ve enjoyed being around as much as you.”

Allura thanked the dark and her current disguise as a human to keep her cheeks from glowing. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, too,” she said, surprising herself with how true it was. All the frustration and self-doubt that had been eating away at her for so long had slipped away talking to Shiro. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Which part?” asked Shiro. “The talking about alien stuff or the sneaking out?”

“Both,” said Allura immediately.

Shiro grinned. “Both then. I can work with that.”

They’d reached the hover. “We—” Allura’s chest felt tight, but she was a _princess_ of all things. She was done being a coward. “We could make it a date?”

Takashi Shirogane’s smile was bright enough to block out the stars.

“I can _definitely_ work with that.”

Once they got back to the Garrison, Allura dropped her half-drunk coffee into the dumpster before heading back to the dorms.

She’d found a much better fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Shiro introduces Allura to Keith:  
> Keith: So you're Shiro's alien girlfriend.  
> Shiro: [chokes]  
> Allura: aLieN??? WHOMST?!  
> Keith: It's fine. I'm pretty sure my mom was an alien too.  
> Allura: ?????  
> Shiro: KEITH! I HAVEN'T ASKED HER TO BE MY GF  
> Keith: (yet)  
> Allura: (YET!)
> 
> Honestly, I wrote this whole AU to include Keith's alien mom joke and it didn't even make it in. *cries writer tears*

**Author's Note:**

> I got a [tumblr](https://mckinlily.tumblr.com)! Like 3000 years late, but that's how it goes. Come check it out if you want to chat!


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